Hot Fun in the Summertime or By The Pool
by Ivory Tower
Summary: What a lovely day for a swim at a local pool...wait a tick-why is that lifeguard decked out in black robes and why is he glaring at you?


"Hot Fun In the Summertime or By the Pool"  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters.  
  
  
  
The scene opens on a lovely summer day at a public pool. The nostalgic scent of cocoa butter and chlorine waft in the gentle breeze. Sounds of splashing and laughter bring a smile to one's face. You hurry across the scorching cement in your bare feet, preparing to do a little impromptu dive into the deliciously refreshing water when...The shrill sound of a whistle, many times magnified, takes at least five years off your life as it pounds into your eardrums. Unfortunately, this is nothing compared to the fright you receive when you behold the lifeguard glaring down at you from his lofty perch.  
  
You realize it isn't Halloween, but you still wonder if perhaps there was a staff costume party and only the lifeguard decided to participate. Your second thought is how in the world can he stand the heat dressed as he is? Yes, the lifegurad is swathed in the blackest black from head to foot. The length of his black cloak billows in the wind almost sentiently. His raven hair gently brushes against his shoulders, glinting rainbow highlights in the sun.  
  
Speaking of the sun, this man must be wearing the ultimate shade of sunblock because he's dead winter white without even the faintest tinge of color. A large black umbrella (quit laughing all you Sijian fans, at least it's not pink) envelopes him in shade so that he is free to scan the area without the aid of sunglasses. You wish he were wearing sunglasses, but those dark eyes would probably melt the lens. At any moment you expect the lifeguard's peircing eyes to shoot out twin laser beams of destruction at you.  
  
"No running," he says in a deep tone that is quiet, calm and sinister.  
  
Suddenly you feel very cold despite the hot June sun, and duck your head out of fear and shame, murmuring your apologies. At that same moment a dashing young man around your age, with light skin, dazzling silver-blond hair, and stormy gray eyes, sprints from the hot dog stand, leaps into the air and does a magnificant cannonball, soaking everyone more than seemingly plausible.  
  
Eyes large with shock, you immediately look up at the lifeguard, expecting him to personally fish out the blond boy with a net. Instead, the deranged- looking lifegurad languidly regards the scene (pissed off sunbathers and all) and continues to sit and look elsewhere. 'What the hell', you wonder in outrage! You hadn't been running-more like jogging and had received a death glare for having hot feet.  
  
Shrugging the matter off, you slowly step into the pool, exhaling a satisfied sigh at the cool, refreshing water. This is more like it, you think, wading waist deep while slowly moving your arms back and forth, enjoying the ticklish ripples against your skin. A shrill whistle makes you jump. Instantly, your head jerks up to where the vampiric lifeguard is frowing down at you like a bad storm. He looks even scarier at this distance: you make out his prominent hooked nose and those swirling black robes inadvertantly remind you of a bat.  
  
"No splashing," he informs you in that tone of evil calmness.  
  
"I wasn't splashing," you angrily inform him.  
  
"Five minutes out of the pool for lying to me," the evil lifeguard retorts, sounding quite pleased.  
  
"But I just got in," you insist, very flustered indeed.  
  
"Ten minutes. Out. Now." He points a long, bony finger, giving you such a blood-curdling gaze you scurry to obey.  
  
On your way to a lawnchair you look back and notice the attractive, elfish blond boy smirking in your direction. Before you are completely situated on your lawnchair the unholy whistle blasts yet again. What the hell could you have possibly done now? Lucky for you, the evil lifeguard is scowling down at a somewhat chubby boy who is petrified with terror. You feel for him. Then you happen to notice a flourescent orange water frisbee resting atop the lifeguard's black umbrella. Even from this distance you can make out those inky black eyes narrowing.  
  
"Longbottom! Twenty points from Gryffindor and thirty minutes out of the pool."  
  
"Sir, I didn't mean to throw-"  
  
"Do you want me to make it sixty minutes, Longbottom?"  
  
With a miserable expression, the hapless Longbottom slowly exits the swimming pool. You hear taunting laughter and notice the elfish blond with two big, burly (and ugly) boys pointing at poor Longbottom. Giving them a dirty look you are momentarily lost in the beautiful insolent smirk the grey-eyed boy gives you.  
  
Without breaking eye contact the blond boy produces a stick, points it at the black umbrella, and shouts, "Accio frisbee!"  
  
You drop your sunblock when the orange frisbee flies into his hand. Mouth gaping, you quickly look around but no one appears to have noticed, including the lifeguard, even though he stoically watches the whole scene. 'Holy shit', you think, quite impressed.  
  
That's when you start to notice little things, like how lots of the people have funny sticks of various makes. Instead of shorts and t-shirts, lots of people are carelessly tossing assorted robes onto their lawnchairs. Beachballs really shouldn't be able to change ten different colors in midair, and beach towels normally don't unfold in midair to serve as hammocks. Two girls, a few chairs over, are giggling insanely over a magazine entitled "Witch Weekly". The picture of a good-looking blond man smiles even broader when you notice it. You fall off your lawnchair.  
  
Glancing over at the clock in the snack bar, you see a woman with her dark hair in a bun and wearing square glasses. She is wearing sandles and a khaki robe, and is rapidly approaching the lifeguard's "throne".  
  
"All right, Severus, it is my turn to do watch," she firmly announces.  
  
"About time. Keep a close eye on those Gryffindors of yours, Minerva, they have yet to learn proper pool etiquette. Oh yes, Longbottom is in time out for thirty minutes."  
  
Minerva gives Severus a dirty look as he climbs down from his lofty perch. Soon as Minerva is settled beneath the black umbrella she immediately blows her whistle on that blond boy you are torn between liking and hating. Both his wand and frisbee are confiscated due to enchanting the frisbee to hit bystanders on the back of their heads. Deciding you like Minerva, you lean back to soak up some sun. Your eyes are closed but you sense that something is blocking the sunlight. Funny, you muse, the sky is not overcast and you open your eyes to make sure.  
  
Surely your hair has turned bright white with fright! Your body temperature has plummeted 20 degrees, and you feel light-headed as two unfriendly black eyes peer down at you like it's Judgement Day and you have lived a life of debauchery. At this distance the sallow skin that you swear refracts the sun's rays screams to be noticed; the thin mouth twists into a most disagreeable frown; the stringy black hair, falling in his face and about his shoulders, only adds to his menacing appearance. Those billowing black robes seem to have a life of thier own. Fear chokes off your voice in your throat. You can only stare at the looming threat, unaware you are trying to merge into your lawnchair to get away from the evil lifeguard who is now off duty.  
  
"*You* are in my seat," Severus the lifeguard informs you in that deadly silky voice that makes you want to call out the National Guard, the Army, and the British Naval Fleet. The man is really tall, really thin and really foreboding. You want your mommy.  
  
"I...am?" You manage to ask meekly.  
  
Appearently this is not the correct response because those black eyes narrow menacingly.  
  
In record time you and your gear are now relocated in the next seat. Going against your better judgement you have made this very brief move to prove you are not easily intimidated. Of course, you now refuse to look to your right and sorely regret your idiotic decision. By now you are too terrified of the evil lifeguard to move again, lest you somehow disturb him. With an inward sigh you resolve to close your eyes and take a relaxing sunbath until the vampire from hell leaves. Maybe he'll burst into flames from too much exposure.  
  
As you lean back to get comfortable your eyes dart to the right. Okay, this guy must have stock in the black umbrella buisiness because he has rigged up another one to deter the sunlight. How has he not passed out from heatstroke? You decide that even the sunrays are scared of him. Why doesn't he leave? Obviously this Severus person has no intention of going for a swim, and he's dressed for Fall or Winter weather in all that black. And then...somehow...the thought just pops into your head: you are willing to bet everything you own that Severus wears black underwear.  
  
This peculiar notion refuses to leave you in peace as images of black briefs taunt your mind. What the hell is going on? Why are you mentally undressing that repulsive, rude man who has gone out of his way to bully you? He has greasy hair; a big nose; sallow skin; uneven teeth, and he's odd to the point of wearing black leather boots to a swimming pool! Yet...he has an undeniably captivating face and beautiful rainbow highlights in the long, inky black hair...you've always been fond of black hair, and dark eyes. Yes, he has the darkest eyes you've ever seen-they're looking at you right now.  
  
Oh dear. You realize, too late, that you must have been staring at him for a long time. Judging from the look on his face, Severus does not take kindly to people who stare at him.  
  
"May I *help* you," he inquires, his voice an icy whiplash of seductive sarcasm.  
  
"Uh..." Your mind blanks out as he scowls at you. Despite your fear you also feel a small thrill rush through your body. Frantic, you blurt out the first thing that pops into your head.  
  
"Aren't you hot in those robes?" Well, at least it's a legitimate question.  
  
Severus locks eyes with you. "No." Obviously he's in no mood to converse.  
  
"But-you don't even have a fan. Actually, you ought to be dead from sunstroke-not to mention dehydrated from..." You trail off when the displeased expression on Severus' face deepens.  
  
"Mind your own buisiness," he firmly advises you, then mumbles something that sounds like "idiot muggles".  
  
And then something goes awry in your thinking mechanism and you do something really stupid.  
  
"Are you wearing black underwear," you abruptly ask, and instantly cringe with humility.  
  
Severus gives you a very odd look that makes you feel so moronic you want to go drown yourself. Without responding, he flips open a newspaper entitled "The Daily Prophet" and proceeds to ignore your existence.  
  
Mortified at yourself, you hide your face in your hands, wondering how this happened in the first place. You feel as though you're wearing a duncecap. Unable to be in the company of Severus the evil lifeguard, you discreetly monitor his behavior out of the corner of your eye. Good, he's still reading. Quietly, quietly-you get up and sneak to the otherside of the pool. Now that Severus is nowhere in sight you feel better and wade into the cool water.  
  
A rather attractive man with long red hair and an earring floats by in a pink intertube that's much too small for him. How he ever got his cute butt in the intertube is beyond you.  
  
"Hey Percy, could I get some help?" He grins and kicks his feet to emphasize his plight.  
  
Percy, yet another redhead, looks highly affronted and quickly turns away, clearly not wanting to be associated with the silliness. A small redheaded girl comes over and threatens to tell Mum if she doesn't get her pink intertube back immediately. Two *more* redheads, twins to be precise, swim by.  
  
"Ron! Chicken fight!"  
  
"How 'bout it, Harry? The loser gets to fight Percy."  
  
Assorted snickers are heard as a small black-haired boy and a tall, skinny, freckled redhaired boy team up against the twins.  
  
"Ron, you know you're not supposed-"  
  
"Loser fights Hermione!"  
  
"I will not. Chicken fighting is against pool regulations-McGonagall's not looking!"  
  
"I know! Let's magic Snape's chair into the pool!"  
  
"Do you want to die young, Harry?"  
  
"Urgh! Let's not contaminate the water."  
  
"What's it matter? Malfoy's already been in here. We can blame it on Malfoy."  
  
"Or we can say Snape looked overheated and we were just trying to help."  
  
"It'd be worth twenty points from Gryffindor to see Snape look like a drowned rat."  
  
"What if he can't swim?"  
  
"Dump him in the shallow end, naturally."  
  
"Righto, Fred m' boy!"  
  
"McGonagall's not looking!"  
  
"This one's for Snuffles," announces Ron, brandishing a wand, along with the others.  
  
"Hold it! There's Dumbledore!"  
  
"Darn!"  
  
You join in the disappointment because you were looking forward to seeing this Snape person, whoever he is, be magicked into the pool. Then, as if your wish has been granted, you see a shadow overhead, hear shouts of "run for it" and hear terrific splash! Turning around, you see none other than Severus, the lifeguard from hell break, the surface, spitting and hissing like a wet cat.  
  
"Did we do that," inquires Harry in a low, bewildered voice.  
  
"I don't *think* so," replies Hermione, sounding scared.  
  
Minerva's loud, shocked tone distracts you. "Albus! I can't believe you did that! What on earth were you thinking?"  
  
To your immense shock you see that she's addressing an old man with a very long, white beard. He looks very out of place in shorts and a t-shirt. He also looks very amused.  
  
"I merely thought Severus looked overheated, didn't you?"  
  
"Someone could have been hurt, Albus!"  
  
"Oh, I cast a repelling charm on Severus and the chair. Had they impacted into anything but the water I daresay they would have bounced along quite merrily."  
  
"I hate the water," yells Severus, thrashing as though to scare the dreaded water away. He looks rather comical, even Percy sniggers at the sight.  
  
Everyone clears out of the way as he swims over to the side where Albus is standing.  
  
"Why that's amazing, Severus! A week ago you told me you couldn't swim a stroke and now look at you, you're a regular pro at it."  
  
Minerva particularly chuckles behind her hand at this revelation. Severus realizes he's been caught and scowls at the situation as a whole. Pulling himself up over the side, he stalks over to the lawnchairs, trailing water and grumbling how he despises pools, water and other forms of summer entertainment.  
  
Watching him rudely confiscate your chair, you smirk a little longer than the others. Replaying the memorable incident in your head, you recall that Severus Snape doesn't wear black briefs, but he *does* wear short black swimming trunks beneath those billowing black robes.  
  
~FIN~ 


End file.
